1 Save me, O God, from waves that roll,
And press to overwhelm my soul;
With painful steps in mire I tread,
And deluges o'erflow my head.
2 With restless cries my spirits faint,
My voice is hoarse with long complaint,
My sight decays with tedious pain,
Whilst for my God I wait in vain.
4 My hairs, though num'rous, are but few,
Compar'd with foes that me pursue
With groundless hate, grown now of might,
To execute their lawless spite.
4 For Zeal to thy lov'd house and name
Consumes me like devouring flame;
Concern'd at their affronts to thee,
More than at slanders cast on me.
6 But, Lord, to thee I will repair
For help, with humble, timely pray'r:
Relieve me from thy mercy's store:
Display thy truth's preserving pow'r.
7 Control the deluge, ere it spread,
And roll its waves above my head;
Nor deep destruction's yawning pit
To close her jaws on me permit.
7 Reproach and grief have broke my heart:
I look'd for some to take my part,
To pity or relieve my pain;
But look'd, alas! for both in vain.
8 With hunger pin'd, for food I call;
Instead of food they give me gall;
And when with thirst my spirits sink,
They give me vinegar to drink.
9 Their table therefore to their health
Shall prove a snare, a trap their wealth;
Perpetual darkness seize their eyes,
And sudden blasts their hopes surprise.
10 But me, how'er distress'd and poor,
Thy strong salvation shalt restore;
Thy pow'r with songs I'll then proclaim,
And celebrate with thanks thy name.
11 Our God shall this more highly prize,
Than herds or flocks in sacrifice:
Which humble saints with joy shall see,
And hope for like redress with me.
12 For God regards the poor's complaint;
Sets pris'ners free from close restraint:
Let heav'n, earth, sea, their voices raise,
And all the world resound his praise.
13 For God will Sion's walls erect;
Fair Judah's cities he'll protect;
Till all her scatter'd sons repair
To undisturb'd possession there.
14 This blessing they shall at their death,
To their religious heirs bequeath;
And they to endless ages more,
Of such as his blest name adore.
15 Father, I sing thy wond'rous grace,
I bless my Saviour's name;
He bought salvation for the poor,
And bore the sinner's shame.
16 His deep distress has rais;d us high,
His duty and his zeal
Fulfil'd the law which mortals broke,
And finish'd all thy will.
17 His dying groans, his living songs,
Shall better please my God,
Than harp or trumpet's solemn sound,
Than goat's or bullock's blood.
18 This shall his humble follow'rs see,
And set their hearts at rest;
They by his death draw near to thee,
And live for ever blest.
19 Let heav'n and all that dwell on high
To God their voices raise,
While lands and seas assist the sky,
And join t' advance the praise.
20 Sion is thine, most holy God,
Thy Son shall bless her gates;
And glory purchas'd by his blood
For thy own Isra'l waits.
Source: The Psalms of David: with hymns and spiritual songs: also, the catechism, confession of faith, and liturgy of the Reformed Church in the Netherlands #69